As lovers, we poise together delicately on a tightrope… To stay on the rope, we must shift with each other’s moves, respond to each other’s emotions.
—Sue Johnson
In the face of inevitable conflict, we are at risk of giving in to a reactive desire to fight or flee, yet our bravest moves are those that shift us from reactivity to intimacy. But how? The previous lesson ended with an invitation to practice inhabiting the pause, the precious and precarious space between stimulus and response, where Viktor Frankl finds our human freedom. Within that pause are an array of possibilities that go far beyond the black-and-white nature of the fight-or-flight response. When you take the risk to dig a little deeper, what you access is your vulnerability—your most authentic expression of self—thereby creating the potential to deepen the connection with yourself and with your intimate partner.
Spoiler alert: no matter how hard we try, we will never fix or cure our emotional reactivity. That’s not even a healthy aspiration, as our emotions, even the messy ones, make us who we are. Our emotional life is a critical part of being human. Experiences of sadness, fear, anger, happiness, and surprise color the stories of our lives, and though we may prefer to experience only the so-called “positive” emotions, the so-called “negative” emotions are just as real and valuable. Emotions are the natural response to life, and we are most able to connect with others when we can stay present with our feelings.
Knowing we will never stop having emotional reactions to the world around us, or to our partner specifically, we can set two goals for ourselves:
The imperfect journey of shifting from reactivity to vulnerability involves a process:
The first three parts were covered in the previous lesson. This lesson will teach you how to do the last part.
When we get upset, everything inside starts to feel very messy very quickly. Fragmented thoughts swirl, emotions swell, and our bodies become distraught. By pressing pause, you lessen the impact of these reactions and can more easily move on to this next step.
Start by simply describing to yourself what has happened. You can tell the story inside your head or you can write it down. Make sure you back up and start with the events that led up to your upset feelings so that you can look at the context of the upsetting moment itself. Start with the big picture and then narrow it down to the specifics of what happened. Naming the sequence of events in this way does two things at once:
Remember Tess, who got really upset when she saw her boyfriend, Devon, talking with the beautiful stranger? Let’s imagine what might happen if, instead of launching into fight-or-flight mode, she had been able to pause and then use the Name-Connect-Choose process to shift herself from reactivity to vulnerability. Here’s how that might have looked:
Devon finds Tess outside the party, and he can tell that she’s upset. He asks what’s wrong, and she says, “I’ll tell you at some point, but I need some time to calm down and figure some stuff out first.” As they walk home, she does some “press pause” work. She takes deep breaths of the crisp night air. She feels her feet on the earth. She listens attentively, silently naming the various sounds around her, trusting that doing these sensory, present-moment acts will create shifts in her. Her feelings are huge right now, her thoughts are all over the place, and her body is on edge. Inside her head, she is talking to herself the way a parent might talk to an upset child, telling herself that these feelings make sense and that this painful moment won’t last forever. Part of her desperately wants to give in to her emotional reactivity and make it all about Devon, but another part of her knows that love is a classroom. This wise part of her trusts that this moment contains hidden gems, and that her relationship with herself and with Devon will benefit from her journey within.
She begins to tell herself the story of what happened that evening, hoping that naming her experience will help her start to feel at least a little curious. She reflects on the beginning of the party. She and Devon were talking among their friends. As Tess was telling a story about her boss, she glanced over at Devon and noticed that he was checking his phone. She recalls that she felt annoyed but said nothing to him about it. Later, Tess went to the bathroom. On her way out, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought, “Ugh, why did I wear this dress?! I look so frumpy!” Shortly after that, she saw Devon talking with the mystery woman. Tess notes that she had felt disappointed and embarrassed seeing Devon checking his phone. She also notes that the negative assessment she made of herself in the bathroom further shifted her mood, making her feel less bubbly, less chatty, and vaguely sad. She felt upset about her appearance, but also upset that she was being so hard on herself about her appearance. Seeing Devon talking to that woman now seems like maybe it was the last straw.
In telling herself the story of the evening, Tess’s awareness expands as she notes two new “data points.” Her initial, emotionally flooded story was, “Devon is a jerk. I knew eventually he would do this to me. I was a fool for trusting him.” Now that she has paused and told herself a more detailed and contextual story of the evening, she wonders, “To what degree is my anger at Devon shaped by the fact that I felt hurt that he was distracted during my work story and by the fact that I was being mean to myself? If I had seen myself in the mirror and said, ‘Damn, girl, looking good,’ how would I have reacted to Devon’s behavior? Perhaps I would have just walked over and joined the conversation.”
She has no answers, but in pausing and telling herself the story of the evening, she has shifted from a thin and linear black-and-white conflict story (“Devon is a jerk”) to a thick and systemic dialectical (both/and) conflict story: “Devon and I were having fun. And I felt a little hurt and confused by his behavior. And I felt quite self-critical. And I felt really upset that he was talking to that woman.”
Telling yourself the story of what has happened can help you begin to identify and connect with your feelings. And there is usually more than one feeling swirling inside. Dr. Sue Johnson makes a helpful distinction between secondary and primary feelings. Secondary feelings accompany and fuel the self-protective survival strategies that are running the show when we are in fight-or-flight mode: anger, outrage, and irritation. Secondary feelings are like a coat of armor, making us feel that we are safe and nobody can hurt us.
Anger is the most common secondary emotion and warrants special attention. As with any of our emotions, there’s nothing bad or wrong with anger. Anger just is. Anger can alert us that a boundary has been violated. Anger can be a call to action. Anger can wake us from an emotional slumber. But anger requires our “A game.” Anger is rarely helpful when expressed in its raw form. It insists that we work bravely with it, transforming coal to diamond. We must honor anger as a valuable signal emerging from within, while at the same time recognizing that in order to use our anger for good, we must engage it rather than allowing it to run the show. Engaging our anger means working skillfully and respectfully with it, as you will learn to do in this lesson. When we do this, we validate ourselves and respect the other person, accelerating emotional growth and promoting healing.
You see, there is usually something else going on, something hiding out beneath and behind the anger. That something is a primary feeling—the feeling behind the feeling. Primary feelings are more vulnerable, more tender, and softer than secondary feelings. They include sadness, shame, loneliness, fear, and inadequacy. There is a huge payoff, internally and relationally, for honoring our primary feelings.
But it’s hard. Many of us would do just about anything to avoid primary feelings. Men especially are taught to avoid them like the plague—don’t feel them and, if you do, certainly don’t share them. Men and women alike have been conditioned to believe that primary feelings indicate weakness and that exposing them would make their partners turn and run. In couples therapy, when I am able to help a partner shift from expressing secondary feelings to expressing primary feelings—from anger to sadness, for example—the payoff is amazing! Invariably, the other person softens, leans in, and affirms that there is great strength in vulnerability (Brown 2015).
When you are in the throes of a secondary feeling, such as anger, connect with the feeling behind the feeling. Remember that behind an angry person is a hurt person. Take the risk to compassionately connect with your hurt (your primary feelings) without judgments about whether you “should” feel hurt. As you begin to connect with a primary feeling, simply welcome it, stay present to it, and feel it. Feelings simply are, so questioning their validity is a road to nowhere.
Back to Tess. The pause she took calmed her body down. Naming the story of the evening helped her feel less confused and more open to possibilities beyond her reactive, linear story that “Devon is a jerk.” She still feels angry, but now she is also connecting with primary feelings behind her anger. The image that comes into her mind is that the secondary feeling—the anger—is a jar of navy blue paint. The primary feelings that are rising to her awareness—fear and shame—are white paint, being mixed into the navy blue. The blue color is still there, but it is changing. She holds awareness of her fear. Her fear is saying that if Devon is talking to another woman, he will leave her for someone else. She holds awareness of her shame. Her shame is saying that Devon’s apparent interest in another woman means that she is not enough for him. She starts to cry. She is bravely letting herself feel these primary emotions. Part of her is saying, “This is hard! It’s much easier just to focus on how wrong he is.” And another part of her feels proud that she is handling herself this way.
After naming and connecting, it is time to choose your response. Choose a response that is guided by a question Neal Donald Walsh encourages us to ask: “What would love do?” From this hard-earned place of choice, as you hold awareness of your story and your pain, you have the opportunity to do what love would do. Love speaks truth in the service of intimate connection. Love speaks the language of primary feelings. Love speaks vulnerably: “I am hurting so badly… I am desperate to be seen and heard… I am questioning my worth… I feel unsteady and unsure… I could use some comfort.” When you choose to give voice to your primary feelings, you increase your chances of authentic engagement and care from your partner—even if he or she is also hurting. Rage and defensiveness cannot persist in the face of authentic vulnerability. Your ability to choose love transforms the entire relationship dance.
Sometimes when you give voice to your primary feelings, that’s the end of it. Apologies are offered and forgiveness is granted. We let go and move on. Other times, vulnerably giving voice to primary feelings is an invitation to dive even deeper. When you shift into voicing primary feelings, curiosity flourishes, and now, as students in the same classroom, you can look together at whether and how the past is shaping the present moment. Are old stories in the room, adding confusion to the present moment, as they are prone to do? Safer in the presence of your partner, you can explore:
Sharing at this level creates deeper knowledge of yourself and your partner. It grows trust by allowing your partner to see you in your fullness and to love you anyway. This kind of sharing also offers healing to the wounded kid who lives inside of you and who still carries the old story. In the light of love, the wounded child’s burden is lessened.
Now let’s return to Tess and Devon: Tess wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She’s not quite able to look at Devon as she speaks, but she begins to open up to him about her tender feelings. Devon listens. His quiet presence invites her to dig even deeper. She talks with Devon about her parents’ divorce. As an adult, Tess can hold a complex story about the multiple factors that led to the divorce, and, as an adult, Tess knows that the divorce was not her fault. But the wounded child within Tess recalls her dad’s heartbreak when he found out about her mom’s affair, and her old story is that “Mom cheated on us.” The wounded girl is terrified that she will never be “enough” to make someone stay. As Tess gives voice to that old shame-loaded story, Devon neither diminishes her nor recoils from her. He holds a steady, compassionate place for the story of her wounded child.
Being in love with Devon puts Tess face-to-face with her old stories. There’s no way around it. Ultimately, she cannot control whether Devon stays or goes. Nor can he control whether she stays or goes. But by working with her emotional reactivity—consequently her vulnerability—she bravely transforms conflict into connection, allowing her and Devon to move through this moment in a way that doesn’t do damage to their relationship and instead brings them closer together.
Because communication is the oxygen of an intimate relationship, care and attention to all that is within and between us ensures healthy air quality. We become reactive precisely because the relationship matters so much. Love demands that we become students of our reactivity, seeking rich understanding not only of the nature of our emotional reactivity and the survival strategies we employ in the face of strong emotions, but also of the wisdom and beauty that swirl behind our pained facades.
Digging a little deeper means telling the story of your upset (name), exploring the feelings behind the feelings (connect), and giving voice to your vulnerability (choose) in order to authentically connect with yourself and your partner.
From Reactivity to Intimacy
Our Name-Connect-Choose process will help you dig a little deeper in order to shift from reactivity to intimacy. The next time you find yourself getting upset with someone you are close to, pause and then take yourself through these steps. The online “Guide for Moving from Reactivity to Intimacy” summarizes these steps (http://www.newharbinger.com/35814).